


Unexplained Phenomenon

by sleepinnude



Series: I Want To Believe [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - X-Files Fusion, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24155674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepinnude/pseuds/sleepinnude
Summary: Dean is definitely not expecting his brand new partner to barge into his motel room at 1 AM, declare that he needs Dean to look at something, and then drop his robe to reveal he's only wearing underwear.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: I Want To Believe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1743178
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	Unexplained Phenomenon

**Author's Note:**

> so i guess i'm writing an x files au!!!!  
> this is a scene that i don't think will end up fitting in the narrative proper & is basically just a rewriting of That Scene 👀 from the pilot episode so it's going here.

He’s sliding his hands down the arch of his back, hoping to stretch out some of the car ride when he feels it. The hammer of his heart rate ramps up and Castiel wills himself to be calm, to be rational. Even if these are the same marks on the victim, it doesn’t mean anything. The marks could be environmental, or anything. They could be _anything_. And even if it is the same thing as the victims, that’s useful, he tells himself. That’s evidence.

He runs his hand down the base of his waist, just above the band of his underwear. Again, he feels them, two perfect, raised bumps.

*

Dean has pretty much been running on fours hours of sleep a night since undergrad and there’s still something itching at his mind. Something about the autopsy, something about the town, but mostly something about the sheriff. Maybe it’s just hardwired in Dean to be a little wary of Midwestern small town sheriffs, though.

Either way, he’s wide awake when, at just after one AM, a frantic knock rolls over his door. With the power out, the night is deathly still -- no lights, no radio, no television… The candles Dean commandeered from the motel’s front office are the only source of light when he opens the door. They sketch odd shadows over Castiel’s face, but that could also be the panic that’s clear.

“I need you to look at something,” Castiel says, shoving his way in. 

Dean is halfway toward making an inappropriate joke but then Castiel undoes the belt of the robe he’s wearing and lets it drop. Dean’s words catch in his throat and so does his air and his thoughts all sort of bottle-neck too. Because whatever else is happening aside, his new partner is standing before him in only boxer briefs and, fuck, he’s _fit_. Sure, Dean had noticed in a sort of detached way that Castiel was attractive when they first met. But this was something quite different. This was forearms and shoulders and the plane of his stomach and thighs.

Stupidly, the only thought Dean manages to get a hold of is _I bet he's a runner_. And then Castiel turns around, shows Dean his back. Which makes Dean short out a little again because if he thought Castiel’s thighs were something, they were nothing compared to the curve of his ass. He blinks and half-wonders if that’s what Castiel wanted him to look at. Maybe this is Castiel coming on to Dean and he’s just, like, really bad at it.

Or, not so bad after all, because honestly it might work.

And then Castiel is reaching behind himself, running his fingers repeatedly over one small patch of skin. “Are they the same?” he asks, words edged through his teeth.

Dean, finally, catches on to what is happening and the arousal drains out of him as quickly as it had hit. He clenches his jaw and steadies one hand to Castiel’s shoulder, moves him closer to the dresser, where one of the candles is sitting. 

“Winchester!" Castiel barks. "Are they the same?!”

*

Castiel holds his breath as Winchester examines the marks.

There’s a candle in his hand, held close so that Castiel can feel the heat of it on his skin. He can feel the brush of Winchester ’s fingers, too, and he tries not to shudder. Tries not to move at all. Castiel exhales slow and pulls in another breath, holds it.

Winchester dips his head lower so that his forehead is almost resting on the knob of Castiel’s spine.

He’s about to demand an answer from Winchester again when an airy chuckle comes from behind him. “Bug bites,” Winchester says.

Relief pulls at the edges of Castiel’s panic, but he tamps it down a moment. He whirls back around and levels Winchester with a look. “You’re positive?” he asks.

Dean is smiling, the flicker of the candle playing tricks with the shadows of his lashes over his cheeks. “Out in the woods all day, it was bound to happen. I got eaten alive too. Nothing to worry about, Cas.”

Something about the nickname, the familiarity of it, makes Castiel realize his state of undress. Snatching his robe up, he only gets as far as twisting it in his hands. “I wasn’t worried,” he insists.

Winchester does him the service of not calling him on the lie, not pointing out that he ran into his room in the middle of the night wearing nothing but underwear and the blush over his cheeks. “Of course you weren’t,” he agrees, still grinning. “Hey, why don’t you just...sit a minute?” he says. Reaching past Castiel, he pulls a bottle of middling whiskey off the dresser and holds it for him to see. His eyes make the offer clear.

It’s a testament to how shaken Castiel is _and absolutely nothing else_ that he meets Dean’s eyes (glowing in the dim), and nods.


End file.
